


Jet Black Shoe

by Emmybazy



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Cinderella Elements, Cinderella Story AU, M/M, Very little knowledge of music for a music fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmybazy/pseuds/Emmybazy
Summary: Calum is sick and tired of it. He cooks, cleans, and runs errands for his 12 fraternity brothers with little thanks. Their fraternity is ruled by an evil President who keeps Calum busy and out of the spotlight. Calum is forbidden from competing for a chance to tour with Luke Hemmings, but what will happen with help from a little theater magic and some good music?Or, Luke is a pop prince and Calum is his bad-ass bassist Cinderella.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn't the next chapter of the soulmate fic (it's been a year since I last posted on that...crazy how time flies) but I had a movie marathon of A Cinderella Story, Another Cinderella Story, and Another Cinderella Story: If the Shoe Fits a few weeks ago and Voila, a Cinderella Story AU. The frat structure is based off of movie frats more than anything else because my college didn't really do Greek life, so there's definitely also some Sydney White vibes in here. 
> 
> I know Cake's been pretty dead for awhile, but I'm putting positive vibes out there and have changed my phone background to the "Luke in Calum's lap" Calum's birthday picture to get me through these long months. 
> 
> Note for the story: So, this story obviously has an evil stepmother character. I've always thought the evil stepmother being super evil for the sake of just being straight up rude was not very good for plot reasons. If you are someone who can roll with that, then go for it in this story! Just read the Jake character as a complete douche wipe who hates Calum for some unspecified reason! Having said that, it's never straightforward mentioned in this story, but the way I wrote it is that Jake is a classist bigot and that is what fuels his actions towards Calum. He's racist/homophobic/elitist and that's why he treats Calum like crap (for the purposes of this story, Calum is gay and from a working class background). It doesn't need to be read that way, but that's the intent. Again, never straight up mentioned in the story and there are no slurs (the reason it's not tagged) so it doesn't need to be read that way, but it helps me, at least, for there to be a clear reason behind the motivations for the character. 
> 
> The minor violence is tagged for people who really can't do it, but I promise it's very very minor. I'll put a description for the tag in the end notes. 
> 
> Also, I know absolutely nothing about actually making music so I apologize to those who do, especially bass players. If something is super unfeasible music-wise, let me know so I can edit.
> 
> I don't own 5sos or Little Mix or Niall Horan or any large company mentioned in this (sorry Facebook!). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Calum slams his hand down on his alarm clock. He groans into the darkness of his room and punches his fist into the mattress in an effort both to wake himself up and relieve a little of the stress pent up in his shoulders.

Fuck Mondays. Fuck Rick for suggesting, in front of Jake, that they should have house breakfasts on Mondays before everyone heads to their classes. And of course, fuck Jake. Fuck douche-hole, asshat Jake.

Calum ducks his head to get out of bed and throws a shirt on. His hair is greasy and he should take a shower now if he wants to take one at all today. Jake will wake up around 8 and if he thinks Calum wants to use the bathroom, he’ll hog it or make a mess. But, if there aren’t waffles on the kitchen table by the time Jake wakes up, then he’ll probably tell Calum to clean the bathroom anyway or, god forbid, the basement, as a punishment.

Calum grabs his towel and heads to the back stairs. His room is not the worst room in the entire world. He’s sure other people out there have less ideal living situations. He’s gotta a slightly-nicer room than the one Harry Potter lived in at the Dursleys’, a converted pantry tucked behind the kitchen. There’s a bathroom on the first floor, but not a shower so Calum has to tiptoe up the stairs, avoiding the creaks in the steps that could wake up some of the lighter sleepers on the second floor.

He showers quickly, throws his pajamas back on, and heads downstairs to see what surprise was left for him in the kitchen the night before.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Calum shakes his head. Someone decided to get a midnight snack of cookies, ice cream, and cereal. They didn’t put any of it away. Calum adds ice cream to the grocery list by the refrigerator and drops the drooping tub of mint chocolate chip in the garbage.

He hates it. He hates what his life has become. It’s been three semesters of being a glorified maid and cook for a frat house and the only thing that makes it worth it is that he knows he’s got less to go than he’s already done. He’s got ten more weeks left in the semester and then he’s gone, middle fingers raised in Jake’s direction and greek letters burned on the front lawn. This house has never been a brotherhood for him.

The waffle batter is easy enough, but it takes time to make as many as the house will need. Thirteen male college students live in the house. Calums lays out two packs of bacon on baking sheets and tosses them in the oven.

The brothers start bumping down the stairs at 7:30, bleary eyed as they poor mugs of coffee on auto-pilot. Making the daily pots of coffee is Calum’s job too, and he’s only forgotten twice since he started. He’s not looking to forget a third time.

“Hey Cal,” Ashton stirs cream into his mug.

“Ash,” Calum nods, pouring another waffle.

“You need a hand?” Ashton asks, taking a sip of his coffee and watching Calum over the rim.

Calum grimaces, “Nah, I’m fine dude. Thanks. Everything should be done in a few.”

“Ok, thanks bro,” Ashton wanders into the dining room.

It’s one of the conditions of Calum living here. There’s only supposed to be twelve people in the house, only twelve legal beds. But Jake promised him a bed, a free bed, as long as Calum worked for it. No one else can help him with any of the chores, his payment to the house for allowing him to sleep in a pantry. It’s not the worse deal.

Calum has worked too hard to get to where he is to have been tripped up by the university not guaranteeing rooms to transfer students. He put himself through community college, paying the cheap dorm rent with bussing jobs on the weekends and early morning barista shifts before class. He kept his grades high so he could transfer to this specific school and study at the music conservatory. When he didn’t have enough money for tuition and housing, he approached his late father’s fraternity about staying there. Jake, the President of the fraternity, had set up an arrangement that seemed gracious at the time.

Jake spits his coffee into the sink, “Calum, this is gross.”

“Not my fault you woke up late and got the dregs,” Calum bites as he carries the plates, heavy with food, into the dining room.

“Well then make a fresh pot for christ’s sake,” Jake sits at his spot at the head of the table, his newspaper handy at his right elbow from when Calum put it there earlier.

“On it,” Calum walks back into the kitchen and dumps the remaining coffee, refilling the pot with water. He can hear them, laughing, joking, passing plates. The click of silverware he’ll have to load into the dishwasher later. To his right, there is a stack of pans and bowls piled high and caked in grease. He sighs, starting on those now rather than waiting and being late for class.

It’s not like he could’ve eaten with everyone else anyways. There’s only twelve chairs at the dining table.

*****

Calum skates down the sidewalk toward home. He normally does a laundry run on Monday nights because his Tuesday class schedule is light. Maybe Mikey will let him borrow his car so he can bring multiple loads at once.

He turns the corner onto his street and almost runs into a moving van.

The Kappa sorority house has been shut down since they were disbanded for multiple accounts of hazing. There are, however, people moving in.

Calum skates across the street to his own house. Mikey and Ashton are sitting on the porch, staring at the Kappa house. They're the only other two pledges who made it through the same semester that Calum took up residence in the house. 

“What’s happening over there?”

“I don’t know man,” Mikey says, “but I swear I saw Luke Hemmings.”

“Luke Hemmings?” Calum questions and plops on the top stair.   

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Ashton adds, “but I definitely saw camera equipment.”

“Huh,” Calum looks through the overgrown hedges to the people carrying boxes into the house. It does seem to be a lot of equipment. Film equipment.

“There!” Mikey points out, “Do you see him?”

Calum looks and… he does. Holy shit.

“What is he doing here?” Calum asks.

“You think we know?” Ashton shrugs, “he always comes by the music department when he’s in town for a show, but that’s happened, what, twice since we started?”

“You guys didn’t overlap a year with him?” Calum asks Ashton and Mikey, who spent all four of their college years at the music conservatory.

“No,” Mikey shakes his head, “he was out of here two years before us.”

“No way, he’s only 21. You want me to believe that he graduated college at,” Calum pauses to do the math, “16?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what you should believe,” Ashton is solemn.

“We had Kratz the year he went on his first tour. She used to go on about him, ‘played better at fourteen than I ever will.’ Think the old girl has a crush on him.”

“Holy shit,” Calum breathes, “Luke Hemmings.”

Luke Hemmings, the music prodigy. The story, a boy so musically inclined, his parents pulled some strings with friends in the conservatory’s board to get him into the esteemed program before he even graduated high school. Graduated from the music program and released an unreal piano album that everyone has a copy of in their iTunes diary. Calum’s listened to the album more times than he can count. After knocking the world away with, of all things, a solo piano album, Luke Hemmings really dashed the world when he released a pop album. Someone was smart and made sure the first single was released two days after his eighteenth birthday and thus, a new prince of pop and the heartthrob of the world was born.

“My sister’s seen him four times in concert,” Calum says.

“Isn’t she, like, 30?” Ashton asks.

“No, but still old enough for it to be embarrassing.”

“Hey,” Mikey interrupts, “it’s not that bad. I went to one of his concerts for kicks and it was incredible. Music’s okay on the album, but live, it’s a ride.”

Calum tilts his head and tries to follow Luke Hemmings with his eyes. He went to two of those concerts with his sister. He knows. He remembers the pull of the music, almost a physical presence in the arena, everyone shaking together with the thrill. He still gets shivers when he listens to Lost Boy, remembering how it felt against his skin at that first show.

It doesn’t help matters that Luke Hemmings grew up hot as hell.

“Guess we’ll have to keep our ears open,” Calum stands, “You guys have laundry in your room?”

“Yep,” Mikey clucks, tossing a ball in the air and catching it.

“Mind if I borrow your car?”

“Here,” Mikey tosses the keys up with the ball and Calum plucks them out of the air.

“Thanks, see you guys later.” Calum pulls out his phone and earphones, already scrolling to Luke Hemmings’ first album.

*****

Calum runs down the hall to Niall’s classroom. Jerkwad Jake made a mess in the kitchen and left it for him to clean that morning.

He makes it in the door right as Niall is closing it, “Good of you to join us Calum.”

“Sorry Ni-” Calum slows. He’s standing right in front of Luke Hemmings, “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” Luke nods.

“Take a seat Hood, we’ve got something special today. Luke, take the reins.”

“Thanks,” Luke Hemmings takes his spot in front of the class while Calum trots to the back of the classroom, between the rows of guitars and the timpani drums, “I’m sure most people on campus know that a bunch of my crew and I moved into the old Kappa house a few days ago.” Luke pauses, his hands clasped behind his back, grin on his face, “Not the first time I’ve been in a Kappa bedroom.” There’s a few shy giggles around the room, Ashton outright laughing in the front of the room, “Well, the reason I’m back is,” he sighs, “So, I’m doing a little, rebranding? I’m trying to make more rock and punk inspired music, but you can’t really do that as a solo artist. So, I’m here to find a band.”

A steady hum takes over the class, but Luke continues with a heavy dose of sarcasm coating his words, “And since my publicity team wants as much exposure as we can get, we’re doing a competition that will be turned into a webseries.” The hum picks up into a subtle roar.

Calum surveys the class. It’s an amalgamation between classical musicians and composers. They all want to push the boundary, and that’s what Niall’s class provides them. Niall’s the only one who lets them deviate from the restraints of creativity the other teachers have already laid out for them. Calum watches as the strings quartet start chatting to each other, as well as the stoners who seem to float through the class. Mikey and Ashton are chatting up front, probably planning to audition together with Mikey on guitar and Ashton on drums. They’re actually really good. Maybe Luke will pick them.

Luke continues over the chatting, having expected the reaction, “Auditions will be done in the quad, we’ve got plans to set up a big stage. It’ll be two Saturday nights from now, we’ll live stream the entire concert and auditions and then I’ll get feedback from fans on who I should hire. Then we’ll announce my new band on the Friday before spring break, right after all the classes are done for the week. Any questions?” Five hands shoot up.

Calum drifts, not listening to the answers to questions about music style or specific instruments. He plays a lot of instruments, but recently he’s taken special interest in the upright bass. Luke will definitely need a bassist and hopefully Calum’s guitar skills and new appreciation for the rhythm section will give him a boost. He’ll audition with that, maybe even ask Mikey and Ashton if he can play with them.

*****

“You’re not auditioning.” Jake interjects when he hears Calum ask Mikey later at the house.

“Why not?” Calum questions, arms crossed.

“Because it’s the Saturday night after the big mixer. That’s your top priority right now,” Jake stands up from his work and turns to look up at Calum, “you won’t have time to do all your normal tasks, plan the party, and audition.”

“You can’t tell him not to audition if he wants to,” Mikey challenges.

“Can’t I, Calum?” Jake puts his hands on his hips, adopting a power stance to try and intimidate Calum, who stands five inches taller.

Jake is a prick. A prick with good connections. His father’s a city councilman and his uncle’s the dean of students. For smaller challenges to his authority, Jake has threatened Calum with expulsion. He’d probably sue Calum if he were to go against his wishes with this audition.

“Makes sense,” Calum shrugs, walking away. He moves slowly, controlled towards his bedroom.

Jake calls after him, “And don’t forget my dry cleaning tomorrow Calum! I need that for this weekend!”

Calum barely makes it to his room, closing the door and clenching his fists. He presses his face into the wood, knuckles white and nails digging into his skin. Nine and a half fucking weeks.

*****

Calum doesn’t get much time to practice. Between cleaning up at the house and his odd weekends doing event catering, he gets late nights free. Instead of going to sleep the night that Jake tells him he can’t audition, he skates back to the conservatory for some solace.

He decides on the piano, a little hurt by the idea he won’t be able to play bass next week to pick one up. There is a row of rooms in the basement, a piano in each, and supposedly sound proof. Calum heads there and nearly trips when he hears the music.  It’s haunting. He follows it to an open practice room. 

Luke Hemmings sits with his back straight, eyes closed. His hands are made for piano, long fingers reaching out over each key. Calum bounces from watching his hands, strong and careful, to his face. Luke’s lips are slightly parted and the dim light hits the plains of his face like he’s on the cover of one of his albums.

Luke doesn’t react to Calum. After far too long, Calum steps back, meaning to give Luke his privacy, but is too tempted by the open door across the hall.

Calum pads into the room, setting his skateboard down and sliding onto the bench. He knows the song, it’s from Luke’s first album. Calum picks up where Luke is and starts his own creation, the music he wrote to go with Luke’s years ago.

Luke’s fingers don’t stutter but his eyes do. He looks at Calum across the hall and seems to accept it. The additive isn't complex, a companion to Luke’s elegant melody. It’s the heavy notes in the lower octaves the piece is missing.

Calum feels incredible and light. Composition has always played a big role in his journey with music. It’s one thing to play the notes on the page in a way that makes the audience feel something, but to create the piece is a whole other beast. In this moment, fingers on the keys, he’s sharing a part of himself with Luke just as Luke shared it to the world. There’s an intimacy that forces Calum to look at his hands rather than Luke’s eyes.

The last few notes spin off their fingers and the silence settles, adding as much to the song as any other note in the piece. Calum looks up.

Luke is a statue, eyes wide. Calum counts six seconds before Luke speaks, “Did you just come up with that?”

Calum shakes his head, “No, my admission piece was adding various accompaniments to some of your songs.”

Luke cracks, breathing a sigh of relief with a quick laugh, “Good, because that would have been scary.”

“Yeah?” Calum grins.

“Yeah, it was great,” Luke nods, “and if it was off the cuff I would have had to retire young.”

“We can’t have that.”

Luke moves to straddle the piano bench, still ten feet away across the hall, “I’m Luke.”

“Calum,” Calum smirks. He leans back to be better in Luke’s line of sight, “It’s a fantastic album.”

Luke grimaces, “Thank you.”

Calum tilts his head, “Do you not like it?”

“No, I love it,” Luke rubs the skin of his neck, “Don’t know if I’ll ever top it though.”

“You will,” Calum assures, “It’d be impossible for you not to. There’s so much music that you haven’t heard yet. You still have influences to build off.”

Luke’s shoulders drop. His lips part and he takes a quick breath. Calum watches, every move Luke makes a symphony in itself.

“Thank you,” Luke huffs out a laugh, latches a hand in his hair, “You don’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome,” Calum nods. He wrings his hands together a few times in his lap, itching to fill the silence with noise. He’s not sure if his words are a good choice right now. Luke watches Calum’s hands.

Luke stands, “I should probably let you practice.”

“Sure, thanks.” Calum takes that as his que to turn back to the keys.

“How many of my songs did you add to?” Luke asks, in the doorway of Calum’s practice room.  

“A few.”

“Do you mind showing me? Then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

Calum shakes his head, “I don’t mind, here,” he scoots over on the bench, “sit down.”

“Thanks,” Luke sits, stretching his fingers over the keys, “could we play on the same piano?”

“Yeah, I think it’d work fine,” Calum shifts and his shoulder brushes against Luke’s, “Track 6?”

“Yeah,” Luke grins, “Ready when you are.” Calum hits the first key.

*****

Calum gets home at two in the morning with tougher calluses and a new number in his phone.

*****

“Hey, do you guys-” Calum stops. Luke’s sitting on the floor of Ashton and Mikey’s room.

Calum hasn’t seen Luke since last week in the practice room. He’s not going to seek him out and Luke certainly hasn’t been chasing after Calum. Besides, there was a rumor going around that Luke spent the weekend in LA, partying it up with the young, beautiful, and wealthy. People like him.

Calum didn’t necessarily want Luke to know his role in the frat house. He’s got two huge bags of jockstraps and pastel polos ready to go to the laundromat. Luke is sitting right next to Mikey’s laundry bin.

“Hey Calum,” Ash says, “Come in.”

“Grabbing laundry,” Calum mutters, walking to Ashton’s bin first.

“I didn’t realize you were in this frat Calum,” Luke grins at him, “Are you going to audition with Ashton and Michael?”

“Nope,” Calum mumbles, hoping Luke will drop it.

“Oh,” Luke crosses his arms over his knees, “ok, but you are auditioning?”

“No, I’m not,” Calum grumbles, dropping Ashton’s bin and reaching to dump Mikey’s into his laundry bags.

“Why not?”

Calum turns to Luke to act nonplussed about it, but Luke’s eyes are so wide. He’s shocked, and maybe hurt, two emotions that don’t make much sense to Calum.

“Uh,” Calum trails off, “I don’t know. Just don’t want to?”

Luke flushes, “Of course, yeah, totally. I understand.”

“It’s not-” Calum tries to save the situation, “I’d love to work with you but this one isn’t for me. These guys, though,” Calum points at Mikey and Ashton, “are your guys.” 

“Yeah, they’re really great,” Luke smiles at the two other guys, both of them pretending to be distracted on their phones, “Just sounds like we’re missing something.”

Calum picks up the bags, “I gotta go. Mikey?”

“Keys are on the dresser dude,” Mikey raises a thumbs up in the air as his eyes remain glued to his phone.

“Thanks man,” Calum grabs the keys and drags the laundry bags out of the room, “See you later.”

“Bye!” Luke calls after him. Calum closes the door but not soon enough to hear Luke ask, “Why is he doing your laundry?”

Calum gets out of there before he can hear the answer to the question.

*****

Wednesday night finds Calum trying to get work done at a shitty pizza place down the block. He loves the place and their truly terrible, cheap pizza. All of the other greek row socialites go to the nicer and more expensive place a few blocks over. He saves a few dollars on dinner and avoids everyone. Two birds, one stone. One really greasy stone with free wifi.

“Calum?”

Calum turns in the middle of his reading on breath control to see Luke Hemmings, “Hey.”

“Mind if I join?” He’s got a tray with three slices of pizza and a huge soda.

“Three slices? I can hardly stomach one.” Calum clears his papers from the other side of the table so Luke will have a place to spread out.

Luke smiles and pours an obscene amount of red pepper flakes on his first piece, “I came here so often, I’m immune now.”

“Gross,” Calum sits back, “You ready for Saturday?”

“Not much I have to do,” Luke says between bites, “Most of the pre-work is the actual set-up. And the videos.”

“I saw the one you posted from class, that was pretty good,” The first video for the webseries had gone up the night before. It was four minutes of Luke introducing the idea of the competition to various music classes at the college and then talking to students about their music. He gave some pointers and encouraged others. It was good.

“Yeah, it turned out alright,” Luke doesn’t meet Calum’s eyes, “Would have been better if we got some of your stuff in it.”

“Too bad,” Calum nods once, turning back to his book.

Luke finishes one of his slices of pizza before engaging Calum in conversation again, “Niall says he was surprised you weren’t auditioning.”

“How did you guys become friends?” Calum questions, changing the subject.

“We went here at the same time,” Luke confirms, “He says you're one of his best students.”

“I am.”

Luke practically whines, “Then why aren’t you auditioning?”

Calum drops his pencil and goes on the defensive, “Why do you care so much?”

“Did you hear how good our music sounds together?” Luke sits forward, “I’ve been terrified for years that I’d never write anything better than that album, and then you made it better. Just like that,” Luke’s calm, but his hands are quick as they sweep through the air, “you made what I thought was already perfect, better. Imagine the both of us writing this new album.”

“Whether I help or not, your next album’s going to be ridiculously good. You don’t need me. Mikey and Ashton are just as good at composition,” Calum points out.

Luke meets Calum’s gaze, head ducked slightly, “You didn’t- there was something special about when we played together. It was-” Luke searches for words, “you understand my music in a way no one else has.”

Calum drags his papers into his bag, closing his book on a pencil to keep his place, “I think I’m going to head out.”

“Wait-” Luke puts his hands out, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I’ll stop, I just-” Luke deflates into the seat, “I’m stressed out.”

Calum puts his backpack down. He picks up the piece of Luke’s crust at the corner of his plate and asks, “About what?”

Luke bites the corner of his mouth. His lips sticks out and Calum can see a hint of teeth against the pink, “Making good music.”

Calum snaps back to the moment, “You already do that. You can’t worry about that.”

“Sure I can,” Luke burrows more into the seat, “I’ve got thirty people who all depend on me for paychecks.”

“Yeah, but you can’t stress about making music,” Calum tosses the crust back on Luke’s plate, “You can use stress to write music, but the best way to make crap is to try too hard. Besides, if your stuff sucks, your team will pick someone else to support. There’s not a shortage of wannabe pop stars out there.”

Luke looks up through his lashes, eyes bright blue, skin glowing. Calum swallows down the word beautiful because nothing should be beautiful in a place with grease stains on the blinds.

“You-” Luke breathes, a deep lungful, “do you want to get out of here? Hit a bar or something?”

Calum checks his watch. He has half a paper left to write before tomorrow plus the rest of the composition. It’s tempting to throw it aside and make a break from this shitty cycle he’s fallen into.

“I would, but I’ve got work to do tonight,” Calum pulls his bag onto his shoulder, “Thanks though.”

“Oh, yeah, college,” Luke stifles a quick laugh, “you know where to find me if you’re ever free.”

“Thanks Luke, see you around,” Calum walks to the door and turns, remembers, before he walks through, “Oh hey.”

“Yeah?” Luke sits up.

“Good luck at the talent show on Saturday if I don’t see you.”

“Thanks,” Luke waves and rubs a hand through his hair. It sends shivers down Calum’s back.

*****

“Calum!” Jake grabs the back of his shirt and yanks. The bottle of rum Calum is holding splashes down his front.

“What?” Calum turns. The girl from Delta Nu is getting antsy that her drink is taking so long to make. Well, it’s not his fault that she refused to drink anything less expensive than Captain Morgan.

“Someone puked in the third floor bathroom,” Jake points upstairs.

“Are you going to make drinks then?” Calum points out the line behind the girl.

“One of the pledges can do it. Just clean it up, I don’t want my room smelling like vomit later.”

“Fine,” Calum steps back from the makeshift bar they set up in the kitchen. It’s almost nice to walk away from the pounding synthe in his ear and the smell of alcohol. He grabs the cleaning supplies he’d locked in his room and heads up.

It’s not so bad. The person only slightly missed the bowl of the toilet. It’ll be an easy enough clean up, with a good excuse to take a few extra minutes away from the party downstairs.

“Hi,” Calum turns and Luke is standing in the doorway. His eyes are lined in black and his clothes fit tight. It’s visceral, the way his looks keep Calum on his toes. That plus the music, Luke is irresistible, a magnet pulling Calum in.

“Hey Luke,” Calum grins but it slips off when he remembers the rubber gloves up to his elbows and the vomit next to his right knee.

“How’d you pull the short straw?” Luke gestures at the globs on the ground and hops onto the sink.

“There is no short straw in this house,” Calum grumbles as he cleans, “Just the Calum straw.”

“That’s shitty,” Luke rubs the back of his neck, “Ash told me.”

“Yeah, it is, but it beats paying rent.”

“I guess,” Luke picks at a rip in his knee, “Would be better if you could enjoy the party.”

Calum sits back on his heels, letting the cleaner seep into the stains on the tile, “Don’t think I’d enjoy it too much.”

“No?”

“Nah, not really my scene. I like going to the bars and meeting new people, but these parties are just an excuse for the same 100 people to dress up in expensive clothes and get drunk together. What’s the point? And then the house is a mess in the morning.”

Luke nods, “We could go to a bar sometime?”

Calum tilts his head, “I don’t know if that’d be a good idea.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Luke nods his head, looking down at his pointed toes with a twist of his lips.

“No, I meant you probably shouldn’t hang out with me,” Calum corrects, “You don’t want to be seen with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Luke’s eyebrow furrows.

“Ok, then let’s go to a bar next time you’re in town,” Calum gives in, knowing it won’t happen. Luke’s probably drunk and making false promises anyway. He turns back to the vomit and starts scrubbing.

“We could go tomorrow. After the show?” Luke suggests.

“Don’t you have a big after party to go to after?”

“Calum, please let me ask you out.”

Calum pauses in his scrubbing, “What?” He looks up and Luke’s knuckles are tight against the bathroom counter.

“If you don’t want to, say no,” Luke’s not looking at him, “I’ve been working myself up all night, so say no if it’s a no.”

“You want to go out with me?” Calum questions, awe spreading in his chest.

“Yeah,” Luke shrugs and glances up, “Is that ok?”

“Calum!” Luke and Calum both snap to the door. Jake’s standing in the doorway, face washed out in the fluorescent lights and lipsticks stains on his skin. Jake frowns and bites, “Get down stairs. Drew keeps screwing up drinks and pissing people off.”

“We’re kind of in the middle of something here,” Calum grinds out.

“You can finish it later,” Jake ends the conversation, pointing back down stairs, “Now get.”

Calum throws daggers at Jake in his head as he goes, making eye contact with Luke momentarily and softening his gaze. The door slams behind him as soon as he’s cleared it and Luke is in there alone with Jake. Calum almost turns back and pulls Luke out of there, but if Jake is angry now, that would make it worse.

Calum mans the bar for the rest of the night. Calum watches for Luke and checks his phone for a text, sends a few himself telling Luke to stop by the bar before he leaves.

Luke never stops by.

*****

The last person leaves or claims a room by 4 am, so that is when Calum starts cleaning. He doesn’t stop until sunlight starts to slide through the windows and the house has it’s normal layer of grit rather than the debauchery of the previous night.

He doesn’t wake up until four that afternoon and the house is still. Ashton and Mikey had to be at soundcheck by three. Calum isn’t sure where the rest of the house is. There’s still no text from Luke.

He slowly pushes out of bed. He needs a pile of pasta and a burrito or two. He opens his door and goes into the kitchen to make something.

He can hear someone in the dining room and ducks in to see who it is, say hello. Unfortunately for him, it’s Jake.

“You think this is clean?” Jake sets his newspaper down. Prick. He still reads print newspapers every day because he’s a pretentious snob who thinks he’s more intelligent because he can afford a newspaper subscription.  

“It was as good as I could get after being awake for 24 hours,” Calum quips, leaning against the doorway.

“Good thing you have time today to clean.”

Calum scoffs, “I’ll do it tomorrow, I want to get in line for the show later.”

Jake crosses his legs, “You’re not going to the show later.”

“I’m not performing Jake, I’m going to watch.”

“You’re not going Calum. You’re not going anywhere near Luke Hemmings.”

Calum’s hands turn to fists, aching to swing, “This is crossing a line. You have no right-”

Jake spits, “You are not to see him, you hear me? You wouldn’t want an anonymous source to tell E-News that America’s pop prince plays for the other team.”

“That’s so fucked up!” Calum yells, “You have no fucking right to mess up his life like that!”

“Then stay the fuck away from him!” Jake stands and slams his palm on the table.

Calum grits his teeth, keeps his head bowed, “I’ve never chased him, he always came to me. I’m not going to turn him away because of you.”

Jake stands upright, smirk on his face, “Then we don’t have a problem. Luke left the party last night under the impression that you're straight, some might even say homophobic,” Jake comes out from behind the table, sauntering in Calum’s direction, “He begged me to make sure you wouldn’t out him. I couldn’t make any promises of course, but said I would talk to you.” Calum’s jaw is clenched. Jake walks past him, toward the kitchen, “So we have an understanding.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” Calum deflates. He’s lost.

“I prefer the word ruthless,” Jake’s voice echos through the empty halls, “All good lawyers are.”

When his footsteps fade out the back door, Calum looks around the room. There’s detritus from the brothers’ breakfasts in every corner on top of the spots he missed last night.

Calum holds either side of the door frame, grits his teeth, and doesn’t scream. He imagines breaking the wood, leaving imprints of his fingers there. When he pulls back, he hasn’t left a mark.

He grabs a mop and gets to work.

*****

Calum skates past the quad. They fenced it in a few days back and now they’re closing the doors of the gate. He can hear the screaming, an announcer bringing Luke on stage. Luke’s probably wearing all black, his smile lighting up the stage more than any light could. It’s probably a sight to see and Calum’s locked out.

He skates to the conservatory. Good thing is that he’ll have the place to himself. He’ll work out some of the frustration he’s feeling through music, take this anger and turn it into something beautiful. Hopefully.

Calum walks the halls of the conservatory and sees a light on at the end of the main floor hallway. Niall’s office. Calum walks down the hall.

“Niall?” Calum sticks his head in. Niall’s fingers speed across the keyboard of his computer, his head not even lifting.

“Hey Calum, what are you doing here?”

“Getting in some practice time.”

“I meant as opposed to the auditions,” Niall stops and turns his chair.

Calum shrugs, “Just didn’t want to go.”

Niall’s head tilts, “Something is going on here. It’s not like you to miss out on an opportunity like this. I heard your accompaniments to Luke’s pieces. Amazing. What’s keeping you from auditioning?”

“It’s nothing,” Calum tucks a hand into his back pocket and watches one of the wheels of his skate board spin.

“If it’s lack of confidence in your work, then that’s my fault. I should have told you-”

“It’s not that,” Calum cuts him off, moving further into the room, “It’s not really something I can talk about.”

Niall purses his lips, “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It is what it is.”

“Calum, tell me what’s up,” Niall gets up and closes the door behind Calum.

Calum is sick of holding onto this feeling in his gut, like he belongs to someone else. His actions are not his own. He needs the small rebellion of telling someone, “It’s...the short version is that my frat president is blackmailing me so that I can’t be anywhere near Luke.”

“Why?” Niall leans against his desk, arms crossed.

“I don’t know. But he sucked me into some contract, and now if I ever go against what he says, he’ll have me expelled.”

“He can’t have you expelled,” Niall insists, “there are channels-”

“His uncle’s the Dean,” Calum shrugs, “It’s fine. It’s not, but I can handle it and I’m almost done here so it makes me angry more than anything else. But this time he put Luke’s reputation on the line.”

Niall shakes his head, “That’s absolute shit.”

“I know,” Calum nods, “but I’m trying to make the best of it. Luke will be gone in a week, probably with Mikey and Ashton, and then I’ll only have 8 weeks left to deal with it.”

Niall gazes off somewhere behind Calum’s shoulder, “Or you go with them.”

Calum snorts, “Nope, Luke hates me now. Jake made sure of that.”

“Luke doesn’t have to know it’s you. No one has to know it’s you,” Niall jumps to his feet, “We’ve got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time.”

“What are you talking about?” Calum leans forward in his chair and Niall grabs the faculty phone.

“Jes, you still working?” Niall says over the line, “The girls there too?” Niall grins, “Good, I’ve got a quick project for you before you head out.” Niall hangs up the phone, grabs his bag and heads for the door, turning to Calum, “Why are you sitting there, we don’t have much time.”

“What are we doing?”

Niall smirks, “We’re saving rock and roll. Come on.” Calum is up and out of the door before Niall’s done speaking.

*****

“These are way too tight,” Calum pulls at the jeans, “And I wear tight jeans.”

“Oh, shush,” Perrie slides a paint brush over his cheek bone, “your ass looks fantastic.”

“And we didn’t have any men’s jeans so it was those or trousers,” Jesy is doing something with a wig and hairspray. Calum tries to keep his head in the right position for the make-up.

“You look good,” Leigh Anne adds, “I think the mesh shirt would have been better though.”

“I’ll be lucky if I don’t get recognized as is, putting my obviously bi-racial body on display at a predominantly white school wouldn’t be fooling anyone.”

“He’s got a point,” Perrie clucks.

“Girls!” Niall had left half an hour ago but now he swoops into the room, “We almost ready?”

“What do you think?” Jade gestures from where she’s applying the last of the thick black lines that swirl over the white stage make up caked to his face.

“Incredible,” Niall steps into Calum’s eye line, “And I got you the perfect accessory to match.

“Awesome,” Calum grins, cracking the black paint over his lips. It’s a beautiful electric bass, one Calum hasn’t seen around the music department before, “Where’d you even get that.”

“Present from the department last year. Now we’ve got to get going or you’re going to miss the show.”

“Last few touch ups,” Jade applies one last coat of mascara and Jesy puts the wig on his head, “Perfect.”

“Now remember, the building closes at midnight so be back by then to put all the props back,” Leigh Anne cautions.

“I’ll leave my office unlocked so you can put this back. The whole thing is blown if anyone finds a brand new bass in your room,” Niall holds the bass out to Calum.

“A lot of work for one audition,” Calum quips, stomach starting to role.

“It’s not just an audition Calum. It’s about showing the world what you’ve got,” Niall slaps him on the shoulder, “Now go on, get out there. You’ve got a popstar to woo.”

“I’m not-” Calum cuts off when Niall pushes him through the door, closing it behind him.

Only one thing to do then. Calum runs towards the quad.

*****

The last few notes of Mikey and Ashton’s performance fall away to a huge roar of applause. Calum can see the gate, feet pounding against the pavement trying to get there before they stop the show.

Luke’s voice takes over from the applause, “Alright! That was incredible! Let’s give another big round of applause to Ashton and Michael!” Cheers erupt once more, “And while we’re at it, let’s give it up to all of our performers tonight!” Luke screams into the microphone. Calum is so close.

“That was the last performance of the night,” boos followed by, “unless anyone else wants to come up here and show us their stuff?” The attendants watching the gate from earlier aren’t there anymore, probably have drifted into the crowd. No one is there to stop him when Calum unhooks the latch and steps through. The quad is set up like an arena, he’s at the very top in the back. Most people are down at least a few rows so he does the only thing he can think of to get everyone’s attention. He thrusts his hand holding the bass into the air.

Luke, smiling on stage, is the first to notice. The smile drops off but is replaced with intrigue. His voice is quiet even through the amplification, “It was meant to be a joke, but alright.”

Every head turns to look at Calum. He holds the pose for only a few more moments before walking forward through the crowds. Bodies part to make a path to the stage, the raucous yelling picking up as he passes by each level. He moves past guards and easily hefts himself onto the stage when he gets to it.

Luke’s standing there, mic in hand, hair matted with sweat. He grins at Calum and speaks into the mic, “Didn’t actually think anyone was going to take me up on that offer, mate. What’s your name?”

Shit. What’s Calum’s name? Luke holds out the mic and Calum doesn’t know what to say, “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Luke cocks his head, “Ok, well floor’s yours. You have an amp for that?” Calum shakes his head. Luke pulls the microphone from his lips, “We’ll get something set up for you, give me a second.”

Calum turns to the audience. People are chatting and no one is paying him much mind. It’s a herculean feat, reaching into his back pocket to get out a pick, but he manages.

“Here,” it’s a stage hand, they get his bass hooked up and he practices a few strums, makes sure it sounds right, before giving Luke a thumbs up.

“Ladies and Gentleman, give it up to our actual last contestant, bass dude!” Luke stands off to the side, not completely back stage, and Calum can feel his eyes on him more than anyone else out on the quad.

Fucking shit. Calum doesn’t have anything to play.

He takes a breath and strums. It’s mechanical, the way he slips into it. It’s one of Luke’s pop songs from his second album, one of the songs that always stuck out to Calum, Disconnected. It’s not particularly complex, but he adds his own flares in between the notes.

Luke nods along, picking out the tune while the rest of the crowd looks confused. Not many soloist signed up to audition. The first few rows tilt their heads, trying to pick up the song.

Calum is hitting the first chorus when the guitar joins in. It takes them a moment to sync up but there’s Luke, next to him, picking the melody out and smiling. He moves when Calum pushes and follows the lead Calum’s setting.

“You are my getaway, you are my favorite place...” Luke sings along. There’s no mic, just their instruments are amplified, so Calum can feel the hush fall of people straining to hear.

Luke’s smiling. It takes up his whole face as he sings. Calum hears every soft note and falls further into the music, adding a few intermittent harmonies to match Luke’s voice.

They play the last note and the crowd claps. There’s no screams in the air, no exclamations of triumph, but clapping.

Calum shrugs, “Sorry to bring the energy down.”

Luke stares at Calum, eyes wide and lips parted. He shakes himself once before answering, “No, yeah, it’s fine. Good even. I was going to play another song anyways, so this is good.”

“Ok, thanks man,” Calum heads toward the amp to unhook his bass but Luke stops him.

“You should play with us,” Luke grabs Calum’s bicep under the leather, “We were going to play a version of my last single? Except a little more rock and I actually didn’t find a bassist so you-” Luke takes a breath, “you’d be helping me out.”

Calum nods, “Yeah, ok.”

Luke smiles, “Cool.”

*****

“Dude!” one of the guy’s from Calum’s comp class hits him too hard on the back, “That was sick!”

“Thanks,” Calum takes a sip of the lukewarm beer in his hand and skirts through the crowd. After the last, mind melting song they played, Luke had pulled him backstage, thrown the bass at one of his stagehands, and dragged him to the after party that had taken over the better part of the quad. There are coolers full of beer stashed along the walkways and campus police milling about to make sure things don’t get to rowdy.

Luke was torn from Calum’s side far too soon after they exited the stage. Calum needs to find him, thank him, and get out so he can return all of the stage costumes and the bass.

“Hey,” another hand falls on his back, “You were really good.”

Calum turns and it’s Mikey and Ashton standing behind him. Calum chokes a bit on his beer and lowers his voice, “Uh, thanks. You too.”

Ashton grins, “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

Calum shakes his head, “No, I’m in the geology program. Music’s a hobby.”

“Well hey, if the three of us don’t make the cut, we should play together,” Mikey taps their beer cans together, “What did you say your name was?”

“Uh, Brad?”

“Cool, nice to meet you Brad. I’m Mikey and this is Ashton.”

Calum spots Luke over Ashton’s left shoulder and nods, “Thanks, yeah, I’ll see you guys around. Got to take care of something.”

“See you later man!” Ashton calls to Calum’s back as Calum weaves through the crowds to get to Luke.

The closer Calum gets, the more he can see that Luke is by no means alone. There’s a guy from the football team standing close to Luke’s side and people gathered around trying to get his attention. The guy is hip to hip with Luke and whispering in his ear. Luke laughs and spills some beer as the guy continues to take up space in Luke’s personal bubble.

Calum stops in the middle of the crowd, stomach tightening as someone bumps into his back. Of course, Luke’s a popstar. He must hook up with all sorts of people, that’s what popstars do. Calum shouldn’t have thought Luke’s attention the past week was anything special.

The way to the stage is right past the hedge Luke is standing in front of so Calum pushes forward, veering his path slightly to the left to pass the group. He glances once more towards Luke before he turns the corner and sees him fall into the guy. He laughs and steadies himself on the man’s chest.

Luke’s sloshed. It’s clear to see and anyone could take a picture of Luke cozying up to a man and sell it to a gossip magazine. Calum straightens the wig on his head and jogs up behind Luke, avoiding the cluster pressing in on him.

“Luke,” Calum calls out and doesn’t get a response. “Luke?” The football player looks up, eyes glassy and movements sloppy. Luke stirs a bit and looks over his shoulder to see Calum hovering at his back.

“Yo, it's bass dude. Sup?”

Calum pulls Luke away, “You’re way too drunk to be making out with a running back.”

“Isn’t makin’ out with him,” Luke’s hands bat softly against Calum’s shoulder. He smells like he used a bottle of whiskey as cologne.

“That’s not the story the tabloids will tell tomorrow if they get ahold of a picture of you,” Calum pulls Luke backstage and sits him in a chair, “I saw you less than an hour ago. How did you drink this much in that amount of time?”

Luke puts his head in his hands, “There were a lot of shots.”

Calum looks around and grabs a few water bottles sitting on a table, “Here.” He unscrews one and hands it to Luke, “Drink.” As Luke drinks the first bottle, Calum pours the other one over his head.

“What the fuck?! What did you do that for?” Luke turns alert eyes on Calum.

“Had to sober you up somehow,” Calum tosses the empty bottle in a recycling bin, “Feel better?”

Luke, white shirt clinging to his body and lips slick with water, nods, “A bit. Thanks, I’m not much of a drinker.” His body still sways and his words are clipped but he’s coming back to himself.

“What a surprise,” Calum jokes.

Luk wipes the water from his eyes, “Give me a break. I didn’t get that bad, I just wanted to enjoy myself for a little while.”

“Yeah,” Calum scoffs, “You looked like you were having so much fun.”

Luke closes his eyes and leans back, drinking more water, “What was your name again?”

Calum can’t bring himself to lie, “Kinda like it when you call me bass dude.”

That brings a flick to the corner’s of Luke lips, “Yeah? It’d be a pretty good stage name.”

“If you pick me, that’s what I’ll go by.”

Luke turns and looks at Calum, “I’m fine with that. And if it wasn’t obvious, I will probably pick you.”

“Yeah?” heat spreads through Calum’s chest, pride replacing the blood in his veins.

Luke nods, “You were good. Really good.” He sits up, “The way you just found a place in the last song without even any practice?” Luke shakes his head and drunkenly mimes playing the bass, “Fucking great dude.”

“Thanks,” Calum grins and pulls up a chair in front of Luke, straddling the back, “I know you’re music well so it wasn’t too hard to figure it out.”

“You made it so much better!” Luke exclaims, “We had other bassists try it and they, it was bad so we decided to play without.” Luke bites his lip ring, “It was my fault. I wrote the line they auditioned with and it wasn’t as good as whatever it was you played.”

Calum investigates, “Why are you doing this anyways? Why not work with the people who backed you tonight?”

“Equal parts publicity and fear,” Luke shrugs, “I love this type of music but I’ve been having trouble writing it. It’s like, I can hear what I want it to sound like and know the instruments but then it’s a mess when I play it back. I don’t want to be a front man with people who are playing what I tell them to, I want to be a part of something,” Luke’s hands twitch on his knees, “And where better to find those people than where I learned how to do all of this?”

Calum nods, “I get it. People who were trained similarly to you.”

“Not only that,” Luke leans forward, elbows on his knees and a set gaze in his eyes, “but people who want it as bad as me. Who are just as good and are going to push me to be better.” Luke’s eyes flick down, “Already met one person who made me feel that way. There’s got to be a few more here who will want to, right?”

“Yeah,” Calum reassures, “You think that’s me?”

Luke rambles, “Could be. I’ve got a gut feeling about you. I’ve known I’d choose Mikey and Ash for a while now, but no one else was really standing out to me. No one, at least, who wanted it. So I figured we’d be a three piece band which would have been fine but I knew we were missing something and then you blow everyone away.” Luke grins, “Blew me away atleast.”

“I’d rather impress you than a stadium of people who don’t get it,” Calum admits, matching Luke’s grin. Luke chuckles and looks behind him, toward the noise and the crowd.

“We should probably get back out there,” Luke motions.

“I’ve actually got to get going,” Calum admits.

“Why? Where do you have to be?” Luke questions.

Calum shrugs, “Not here. Can I trust you not to jump the next lineman who hits on you?” He tries for jovial but it comes out flat.

Luke runs his hands through his hair, “Don’t remind me.”

“If we’re going to be in a band together, I'm sure I’ll end up seeing worse,” Calum teases and draws a quick laugh from Luke.

“I promise I’m normally not like that. I’ve been too well trained by my media team,” Luke shrugs, “But the alcohol was clouding my judgement and I just.” Luke grimaces, “I liked the attention. And he was nice, so I thought I’d go with it.”

Calum nods, “I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Luke insists, “but that’s fine.”

“Want to explain it to me.”

Luke smirks and shakes his head, takes another swig of water, “Not gonna happen mate.”

“I promise, I come with less of a hangover than a bottle of whiskey. Tell Uncle bass dude your problems.”

Luke laughs, “It’s not a problem, I’m just dealing with some...shit.” Calum encourages Luke to continue, sitting forward and listening, “I don’t really do the whole relationship thing. Or the dating thing. But-” Luke cuts himself off, “I can’t believe I’m talking about this. I sound like I’m in high school.”

“You never finished the first time so it must be coming back to haunt you.”

“I finished high school,” Luke mutters affronted, “but it would explain it.” He grabs the water bottle at his feet, finishes it off, “Ok, so here’s the story. Guy goes back to his college feeling insecure about his music to try and recruit a new band. Guy meets a really great other guy who makes him feel confident again and gives him great advice. Suddenly, the first guy has to come to terms with the fact his latent homosexuality is a very real thing and that his first big boy gay crush is on a homophobe who literally storms out of the room after I tried to ask him out.” Luke crushes the plastic bottle between his hands, “So yeah, Guy tries to put on a great show, takes a bunch of shots, and flirts with a hot dude who’s interested because the guy he wanted to spend the night with didn’t even come to the freaking show.”

Calum flexes his fingers into the leather of the jacket, holding his jaw steady so it doesn’t drop, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Luke puts his face in his hands with a sad chuckle, “Ironic isn’t it, the guy who helps me rebuild my self confidence in my music breaks my heart.”

“You really like him that much?” Calum’s voice doesn’t shake.

Luke nods, “You should hear him play. He just,” Luke bites his lip, “he finds what’s missing in music and adds it. And he’s kind, patient with me. Hot as hell. And he’s absolutely disgusted by me.”

“He’s not,” Calum interjects and Luke meets his eyes, “Trust me.”

“But someone told me-”

“Don’t listen to them,” Calum stays firm, but tries to play it off, “If he’s as great as you think he is, then he must be somewhat decent. Decent people don’t hate gay people.”

Luke stares at Calum’s right knee, “Sure, but he’s at least straight. So I made him uncomfortable or worse. I can't face him again.”

“You should talk to him,” Calum picks at the hole in his jeans, right where Luke is watching.

Luke’s head lolls to the side. He considers Calum, takes in his face. Calum looks away and messes with his wig. Luke asks, “Are you straight?”

“No.”

“Will you kiss me?”

Calum looks Luke in the eye, “No.”

Luke nods, forlorn, “Sorry, forget I asked.”

Calum bumps his fist against Luke’s shoulder, “Probably not the best idea to kiss your bassist when you’re drunk and you’re sad about another guy.”

Luke purses his lips, “I’ve never kissed a guy before.”

Calum coughs, “Oh. Still not a good idea.”

Luke leans forward, “I know, I just have this idea in my head that if I kiss a guy and hate it, then this whole problem goes away and I can keep being one of Hollywood’s favorite bachelors.” He fans out his fingers in a semblance of jazz hands.

Calum tilts his head. He’s only human and Luke’s lips are red from the amount of biting he’s been doing. Best case scenario, he gets to kiss Luke now, it restores Luke's faith in himself and he shows up at Calum's door tomorrow.

Calum gets a hand on Luke’s neck and tugs. Luke is caught off guard, a slight gasp let go in the process of him moving closer to Calum. His eyelids drop and Calum’s a breath away when the alarm on his phone goes off. Fifteen minutes before the conservatory locks.

“Shit,” Calum lets go of Luke and reaches for his phone, “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait, give me your number,” Luke pulls out his phone and holds it toward Calum, “Not because- I need to be able to reach you for band stuff.”

Calum reaches half way for the phone before he remembers; his number’s already in Luke’s phone. The shimmer of the dream the night has been crashes down around him as he snaps his hand back to reality.

“How about you give me yours?” Calum suggests, trying to sound light. He opens a note in his phone so that Luke doesn’t get a look at his contacts.

Luke types out his number, “Okay, text me at some point.”

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

“I will.”

Luke crosses his arms, “Why won’t you give me your number?”

“I really have to go-”

“Ok, but first you have to give me something of yours that I’ll know you’ll come back for.”

“What?”

“Come on,” Luke holds out his hand, “Either give me your number or something of value.”

Calum looks down at himself. The only thing, besides his underwear, that he’s wearing that belongs to him are his shoes. They’re black converse with music notes and other doodles along the white edges. He can’t believe he’s doing this.

“Here,” Calum kicks off his right shoe off. Luke’s eyebrows raise when Calum actually chooses that option over giving Luke his phone number, “I’ll definitely come back for that.”

Luke inspects the shoes and snorts, “Nice doodles, Picasso.”

Calum grins and shakes his head at Luke, “I’ll see you soon Luke.”

“Bye bass dude,” Luke waves as Calum retreats to grab the bass.

Calum curses twice under his breath when he steps on random debris getting the bass. Looks like he’ll have to buy another pair of shoes now. There goes half his savings for a new guitar.

Calum runs from the stage area once he has the bass. The clock tower high over the campus reads 11:48. He picks up the pace as the swelling music fades behind him.

*****

“Calum!” Jake bangs on Calum’s door, “wake up!”

“What the fuck Jake!” Calum pulls the door open, “What do you want?”

“Where were you last night?” Jake asks, arms crossed as he looks up at Calum, “When I came home from the show your door was locked and you weren’t here.”

“Yes I was,” Calum lies, rubbing sleep from his eyes, “I was exhausted after you made me clean all night but I couldn’t sleep with the show going on. I locked the door and put noise cancelling headphones on so I could sleep.”

Jake sneers, “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t really care what you believe,” Calum turns to put on pants, “because it’s true. Now, do you mind getting the fuck outta my room?”

“The kitchen is dirty,” Jake walks out. Calum, though pissed, feels a sense of relief that the confrontation is over. For now.

Calum yawns and looks at his phone, scrolling through twitter. At the very tops of his feed is a short tweet from Luke.  _ Last night rocked! Great people, even better talent! See everyone Friday for the livestream! _

Calum groans and drops his phone off the side of his bed, facepalming. It’s going to be a long week.

*****

Monday night, Luke tweets.  _ Boreeed. Text me if you have my number and you’re in the area! _

Calum grimaces and goes back to scrubbing the tile in the upstairs bathroom.

*****

Calum knocks on Mikey and Ashton’s door, “Anyone in there?”

“Come in,” Ashton yells.

“Hey,” Calum opens the door. Ashton’s alone inside, “Want anything at the grocery store?”

Ashton barely looks up from his computer, “No, I’m good. Thanks though.”

“What are you doing?” Calum lingers, trying to see Ashton’s screen.

“Looking at every Brad who goes to this school’s profile on Facebook.”

“What?” Calum straightens.

Ashton finally looks up, “Did you see the video from the concert on Saturday?”

“Yeah, you and Mikey were incredible,” Calum sits on the edge of Ashton’s bed.

“You remember that last guy? The bassist,” Calum nods, heart leaping into his throat, “Luke is obsessed with finding him. Apparently they connected or something backstage and all of his fans loved him so Luke is dead set on having him be the bassist. Mikey and I were the only ones he said his name to so we’re trying to help Luke look.”

“Any luck?” Calum swallows.

“No,” Ashton shakes his head and looks back to the computer, “He was wearing too much make up. He said he was in the geology program so Mikey’s camped outside the science building looking for someone that might be him. How many 6 foot 4 students can there be in that program, you know?”

“I-” Calum moves to the door, “I’m gonna go, but good luck.”

“Thanks man,” Ashton waves over his shoulder, “It’s crazy. Luke swears he gave him his number and told him he wanted him in the band. Who passes up an opportunity like that?”

Calum escapes and shuts the door behind him. He leans back against the wall and takes a steadying breath.

*****

Wednesday afternoon, Luke tweets again:  _ Does anyone know the bassist from Saturday night?! Having a hard time finding him! For contest reasons…. _

Mikey responds  _ He said his name was Brad! Brad, you out there?! _ Luke retweets it. #WhereisBrad trends while Calum reloads laundry at the local laundromat.

*****

It comes to a head midday on Friday, a few hours before the livestream when Luke will announce his band.

Calum’s feeling shitty. In the search for Brad, Luke’s forgotten about Calum. Better still, Jake’s been making up chores to keep Calum busy and in the house all hours of the day. Tuesday morning he’d had to beat all the carpets and when things explode he’s re-grouting the kitchen tiles.

“Calum!” Jake screams from the next room.

“What?” Calum sneers before looking up. Jake’s face is red as he stomps into the kitchen.

“Care to explain this?” Jake holds up his phone to Calum. The phone is shaking in Jake’s grip, but Calum can make out a picture of a black sneaker on Luke’s instagram.

“I can- it’s not mine,” Calum rushes to say but Jake is already walking towards his room.

“Then I should have no trouble finding both of your shoes in your room,” Calum runs after him but Jake is already under his bed, pulling out shoes, when he gets to the door.

“I wore through the right one so I tossed it,” Calum insists, trying to distract Jake, but Jake’s got his hand on the left shoe and is pulling it out from where Calum had stuffed it behind his suitcase. Jake stands and holds up the match to the shoe in the picture.

“I should’ve known. You ungrateful piece of shit, trying to go behind my back like that!”

Calum gives up, steps into Jake’s face, “You had no right to tell me not to compete Jake.”

“You are an embarrassment to this fraternity,” steam practically shoots out of Jake’s ears as he grabs Calum by the shirt and pulls his face down to his level.

“Not as of tomorrow. I’m telling Luke!” Calum spits, “He loves how I play, and he likes me! He’ll take me on tour with him and then I’ll be done with this place.”

Jake throws Calum into the corner and Calum lands on his skateboard. He hits his head hard against the wall and before he regain his composure, he hears the lock click from the outside.

“No,” Calum gets up and tries the doorknob but it doesn’t turn.

“Enjoy watching the livestream online because that’s the closest you’ll ever get to Luke again.” Footsteps trail off and Calum is left in silence.

“Shit,” Calum pushes all his weight into the door but it won’t budge, the doorknob not even turning. He kicks the door over and over but it leaves hardly a mark.

Calum’s head aches and his toe is sore. He sits on the edge of his bed and pulls out his phone, dialing Ashton.

“ _ Sorry I missed you, leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you when I can.” _

“Shit, Ash, Jake fucking locked me in my room. I need help. Please.”

Calum calls all of his friends, all of them go straight to voicemail. It’s just an hour before the livestream and everyone must be getting ready to perform. Practically the entire music program is collaborating on a medley. Someone should realize he’s missing. Hopefully.

Calum contemplates calling the campus police but for all he knows, Jake’s warned them he’d call. Calum’s exhausted his contacts and is stuck.

With a grunt, Calum falls back onto his bed and pulls up instagram. Just like on Jake's phone, there's a new picture from Luke from just a few minutes ago. Below the shoe is the caption:  _ come to the show tonight bass dude, your shoe is missing it's friend :/ _

He does homework because what else is he going to do. He keeps his eyes glued to the phone and his ears perked to listen for the front door. The closer it gets to the livestream, the less hope he has. All the brothers had gone early to get good seats to cheer for Mikey and Ashton who’d let slip the previous night that Luke had chosen them. Calum resigns to his fate and turns the livestream on his computer when he hears the screams erupt outside a few minutes before the hour. The sun is shining bright and Calum burrows under his comforter, ready for the show.

Luke’s face pops up on his screen, “Hello? Is it working? Are we up?” He looks around and waits for a signal, “We’re good! Well, here we are, I’m going to be announcing my new band soon, but first, a treat from the music department at my alma mater.” He smiles into the camera, a natural in front of the camera, and Calum swallows. He sees a life spread out in front of him. It’s all pulled away when the camera pans left.

The performance is fine, Calum helped with the arrangement but Chrissy messes up the part he was supposed to play on the piano. Mikey and Ashton blow everyone else away with their solos and the song finishes with a bang with all 56 upperclassmen in the music program on stage holding out the last note.

Calum adjusts on his bed. He has to piss but he refuses to stoop to peeing in an old gatorade bottle. Someone will come along eventually. Until then, he’s got a good view.

“That was incredible, let’s give it up for the music program!” Luke takes the stage and riles up the crowd, “To everyone at home, I wish you could have felt that. Nothing like live music.” There’s a camera man on stage with Luke following behind him for close ups and it intermittently cuts to shots of the crowd and wider stage shots.

“Now, it’s time for the big reveal,” Luke grins, “I don’t think it will surprise anyone but the fan favorites and my personal favorites are…” the video cuts to the wide stage shot where stagehands have moved up the drum kit Ash had used and set up three microphones, “first, the band’s drummer, Ashton Irwin!”

Ash takes the stage, drum sticks raised. He takes his seat and waves.

“Which of course means our guitarist will be Michael Clifford!” Mikey struts out, plays a few notes on his guitar and stands behind the mic on stage left.

“Thanks for having us aboard Luke!” Mikey leans into the mic, “but it looks like you’ve got one more spot to announce.”

“Yeah,” Ashton pulls a microphone from somewhere, “we’re going to need a two man rhythm section.”

The crowd cheers. Calum can see Luke take a steadying breath and Mikey pulls an object out from behind his back, tossing it to Luke.

Luke faces the crowd and holds up the converse sneaker, “Brad, or bass-dude, or whatever your name is, you’ve got a spot if you want it.” Luke looks out over the crowd and the cameras cut to shots of the crowd. People check out the faces of everyone in their area, trying to spot a face they never saw in the first place.

“And if-” Luke continues over the shots of the crowd, “I’m sorry for what happened backstage. Forget all that.” The screen cuts back to Luke’s face, eyes darting out, “We could make really great music.”

Calum sits up and leans back, eyes closed. A part of him wishes Luke had never come back here in the first place. He wishes a 16 year old Calum had never spent three weeks teaching himself how to play the piano just so that he could play Luke’s songs. He can’t force himself to regret knowing Luke, but wishes he could have avoided the hopelessness of this moment.

“Is that- It’s the other shoe!” Mikey breaks his moment of self-pity with a shout. Calum startles and pulls the laptop in closer.

“Is that Jake?” Ashton’s voice is barely picked up but a wave of dread takes over Calum.

Jake hops onto the stage, converse held aloft in his hand as the crowd cheers. Luke looks to the camera, eyebrows creased and lips a flat line.

“Uh, hi Luke,” Jake pants at Luke and it’s picked up by his mic for the world to hear.

“Seriously?” Luke crosses his arms, “You told me you don’t know how to play any instruments but you want me to believe you were the one up here last week?”

Jake shrugs, looking out at the crowd hanging on his every word, “I was embarrassed by my passion for music?” Calum almost vomits, “That’s why I wore a disguise.”

The crowd quiets and everyone turns to Luke for his reaction. Calum holds his breath waiting for Luke to speak.

Luke takes the shoe from Jake’s hand and compares it with the one in his hand. Satisfied, he looks up, “Who do these belong to?”

Calum sits up as Jake flounders, “They’re mine-”

“No they’re not,” Luke pushes out a bitter laugh, “Do you think I’m dumb? Bass dude was at least 6’2” and you’re what, 5 feet? And his hands were really dark like he was-” Luke stops and stares at the shoes in his hands before turning to Ashton and Mikey, “Where’s Calum?”

“Oh my god. Of course it was Calum,” Mikey facepalms, “We’re so dumb.”

Luke looks into the wings of the stage, “Yeah but where is he? Wasn’t he supposed to perform earlier.”

“Hold on now-” Jake sputters and tries to step in.

“Shut the fuck up Jake,” Luke towers over Jake, “you lied to me. Calum isn’t straight, is he? I bet you're the reason he wasn’t going to audition in the first place, too. Where do you get off?” Calum can’t breathe watching Jake fall apart on stage at Luke’s hand.

“He’s probably back home,” Ashton interrupts, “He was re-grouting the kitchen when we left earlier.”

Calum watches as Luke pushes past Jake and jumps off the stage, camera man following behind. The shot is rocky and makes him queasy but it’s worth it for the shots of Luke jogging down greek row towards the house. Just a few minutes later, Calum’s house comes into view.

“Luke!” Calum screams out, hoping he can hear. He knocks against the door with one hand and keeps his laptop propped in the other to watch Luke’s progress.

“Did you hear that?” Luke on screen asks as he steps onto their porch. Luke knocks on the door and tries the handle, pushing the door open.

“Luke! I’m back here!” Calum can hear the echo of his voice through his speakers.

“This way,” Luke walks through the foyer and into the back hallway, passed the kitchen and Calum keeps a steady stream of hits on the door until he sees it come into view.

“I’m in here, Jake locked it from the outside.” 

Luke’s right in front of the door,  “Give me a second.” Calum puts his laptop down and steps back from the door, “Calum, watch out.”

The door swings open. Luke stands there, pair of converse in his hand and a camera man over his right shoulder. None of them move.

“I can explain everything,” Calum assures Luke.

Luke leans against the door jamb, and faces the camera, “The fourth member of our band will be Calum Hood, also known as bass dude. We’ll get back to you, internet, on the band name and a single soon. Follow me on twitter to get updates. Thanks for watching!” The camera man holds his arms out at Luke before he’s shut out of the room.  

Luke turns and leans against the door. He grins and meets Calum’s eyes. Calum sighs.

“I’m really sorry, it was all-”

“Later Calum,” Luke smiles and Calum is drawn in.

*****

Calum takes a swig of his beer, “That sounds more like a verse than a chorus.”

Mikey rereads his notes and nods, “Ok, I can see that.”

They’re sitting on their front porch. After Jake had been unanimously voted out of the frat, Calum had moved into his room and they’d moved his old bed onto the porch for more outdoor seating. It’s become the four of them's’ favorite writing spot. Calum will get home from class and find the rest of his band mates strewn about the porch with guitars and Ashton on his cajon. It’s only been a month since the competition and they’ve already got the better part of an album.

The front door swings open and Luke stumbles into the light. Calum adjusts and extends his right arm, welcoming Luke to his side. Luke curls up with his head on Calum’s shoulder, “Hey.”

“Bad phone call?”

Luke pouts, “She said we can’t use Bromance as our band name.”

Mikey exaggerates a gasp, “Oh no, whatever will we do?”

“Use a shitty band name that none of us really like, that’s what we’ll have to do.” Luke flicks a pick at Mikey’s head.

“I like Five Seconds of Summer. Kinda catchy,” Calum tries to soothe Luke with a kiss to the top of his head. Luke relaxes slightly against him.

“Good, because that’s our band name. We’ve already pushed it too long so they’re copywriting it now.”

“Five Seconds of Summer, 5SOS, I’m into it,” Mikey agrees, “I’m gonna grab another beer, you guys want one?”

“I’m good,” Calum holds up his half full bottle.

“I’ll have one,” Luke calls after Mikey, “Thank you!”

Luke shifts closer, curling an arm around Calum’s waist and tracing his thumb along Calum’s side. Calum, Mikey, and Ash graduate in three weeks and then the real work starts. That’s when they all move out to LA and start recording with serious producers and doing serious interviews. As excited as Calum is, there’s something simple about right now, about coming home from class and finding Luke curled up in his bed with a new song scratched out on a legal pad, that makes Calum feel like he’ll definitely miss it.

Calum runs his fingers up and down Luke’s exposed forearm, applying the slightest hint of pressure with his nail. Luke hums and tilts his head to run his lips up Calum’s neck.

“Enough of that, we’ve got work to do you two,” Mikey steps onto the porch and sits back down.

Calum sighs, taking another sip of his beer and resting his hand on the exposed skin of Luke’s waist. Yeah, he’ll miss this.

*****

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Minor Violence tag: Calum is grabbed by his shirt collar and then thrown into a wall. He hits his head but recovers quickly. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope that was worth your time. No promises on when I'll post again. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and have a wonderful rest of your day!


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